


I am you, you are me

by Vanamiya



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Body Swap, Comedy, Drama, Happy Ending, M/M, a bit of everything I'd say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 06:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5857528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanamiya/pseuds/Vanamiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An anon on tumblr requested Fenders with body swap. My brain ran away with it and this is the result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am you, you are me

When Anders woke up that morning he felt… wrong. As if something was amiss. Justice wasn’t pushing at the back of his head, urging him to get up and do something for the mages, heal, write his manifesto, anything. The second thing he noticed was the pain. A constant burn spreading over his skin, enveloping his whole body. Just what had happened that made him ache like this? Had he unknowingly drunk too much – despite not being allowed to anymore – and fallen down the stairs all the way to Darktown? He let out a frustrated groan, surprised at how hoarse and… deep his voice suddenly sounded. Definitely the weirdest hangover he had had in a while. But then again, that was what magic was for, right? Isabela kept telling him that at least.  
  
Anders reached inside himself for that spark that would heal this pain instantly just to discover the third wrongness of the day – he had no magic! Now this made him panic and he opened his eyes to find out that he was… not inside his clinic. It took him a moment but he recognized the room, the gaping holes in the ceiling and the overall gloomy feel. This was Fenris’ mansion or rather the mansion he was squatting in. Anders hadn’t been here too often so what was he doing here now? Especially because… was he lying in Fenris’ bed?!  
  
Anders sat up, convinced that this day couldn’t get any crazier when he finally saw it. Saw himself. His hands, they were suddenly… so dark… with thin white lines running from his arms all the way to his fingertips. Even if they were not clad in the usual gauntlets, Anders knew those hands, knew that they didn’t belong to him and knew just WHO they belonged to. He screamed.  
  
This was a dream. HAD to be a dream. There was no way he could somehow have just… hopped over into Fenris. Of course, he had heard that such a thing was possible but usually only for an Archdemon and Anders honestly doubted that he was one of those. Just what had happened?! His memory of the day before was kind of… hazy… Hawke had dragged him, Fenris and Merrill to some strange place beneath Darktown where they had fought some ancient demon. Typical day for Hawke and the merry band of misfits. So how?!  
  
It wouldn’t do to just keep thinking about this, Anders realized, he needed to find Fenris... and his body. Maker knew what happened to Fenris, he could be inhabiting the body for all he knew and that would mean… Anders suddenly felt cold. Justice. Justice was still inside his body.  
  
Getting up was… not as easy as Anders had thought it would be. Fenris’ body worked differently, he felt like he was trying to draw a bowstring beyond its capacity. No matter what he did, there was strength and tenseness and pain. Oh Maker, the pain. It had been fine when he had still been in bed but getting up and trying to get accustomed to this body had caused the markings to glow wildly. Anders had no control over them and no idea how Fenris did it so he could only grit his teeth, leaning against a wall and waiting until it had subsided on its own. He was barefoot, too. Of course he was. Fenris never wore shoes or socks. Strangely enough it wasn’t as uncomfortable as Anders would have expected it to be. Elven feet probably had some anatomical advantage against human feet or maybe the pain just made everything else seem less severe in comparison.  
  
There was only one way to find out what had become of Fenris and his body which was to get to his clinic as soon as possible. Anders took deep breaths and started walking, wondering if he should try to put on the gauntlets and breastplate but deciding against it because he had no idea how to put them on properly anyway and he didn’t have time to fiddle with this right now. He took the sword though, convinced that he needed at least some means of protecting himself if he couldn’t use magic and had no idea how the lyrium tattoos worked. The sword turned out to be lighter than anticipated and well-balanced. Huh. So that was why Fenris could swing it with such ease?  
  
After Anders had gotten ready, he exited the room Fenris inhabited and hurried down the stairs into the foyer. There was a cracked mirror leaning on one corner next to a decomposing corpse and despite his earlier thought that he needed to hurry, Anders couldn’t help but risk a peek.  
  
Fenris looked back at him with disheveled hair and somewhat wild eyes, his tattoos faintly pulsating. Anders did his best to reduce the damage by combing his finger through surprisingly soft white strands. It wouldn’t do to go out and look like the Maker himself was on his heels.  
  
To be fair though, Fenris did look rather pretty when he wasn’t scowling and glaring. Anders tried to imitate the look, scrunching up his nose until those small wrinkles appeared that Fenris always had when he was especially sour. Anders relaxed his face again and giggled. Without the frown, that elf really did have puppy eyes. Big and green and shiny. And those ears… Anders couldn’t keep himself from touching them. Just this once, while he had the chance! They twitched when he fingered them curiously and he could feel a slight tickle. He wondered what it would feel like when someone else touched them…  
  
“Totally worth it.” He mumbled and stared at himself in shock. Of course, he had Fenris’ voice now, too.  
  
“Look at me, I am Fenris, the mage hater! But oh, I had been so wrong all this time! Anders, you’re absolutely right, mages have it bad and the Templars must be stopped! Also, you’re incredibly handsome and charming and I would love to get on my knees and…”  
  
That was when Anders stopped himself. Okay. Maybe this went a little far. Not having Justice with him was something of a blessing because there was no nagging voice at the back of his head but it also meant that he could get carried away without anyone getting him back on track. He still needed to find that spirit. And his body. And most importantly Fenris. Hopefully all three of them were in one place and not tearing down his clinic.  
  


* * *

  
  
When Anders reached Darktown, he saw people fleeing from the direction of his clinic. That didn’t bode well. He started running and the closer he came, the worse it got. Small ice crystals started forming on the floor, the walls and between garbage heaps that had been set on fire. Above all this there was an electric charge in the air. Anders’… or rather, Fenris’ markings could feel the heavy, uncontrolled use of magic and they reacted to it, wanting to light up and just resonate with it. Anders had to stop again and breathe, get himself under control. He still had no idea how these things worked and he had no time for this. This was bad, this was so much worse than anticipated.  
  
He forced himself to push on and finally reached the clinic. He heard screams from within and opened the door.  
  
There he saw… himself, no, his body, screaming, thrashing, shooting out wild magic into every direction. His skin was cracked. White light seeped from it like oozing wounds and his eyes shone blindingly bright. Was this what he looked like when Justice was in control? It was terrifying.  
  
“StOp…! YoU DEmON!” His body shouted and held his head, shaking it violently.  
  
“YOU DON’T BELONG INTO THIS BODY, MORTAL, LEAVE NOW!” That was unmistakably Justice and that meant that Fenris really was inside his body and the spirit and him had… a little argument, apparently.  
  
“Stop! Stop, Justice! It’s me, Anders! It’s alright!” Anders stepped closer, holding up his hands in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture. He could only pray that Justice recognized him, even inside this body.  
  
“ANDERS. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. WHY HAVE YOU AND THIS MORTAL SWITCHED VESSELS?”  
  
“I’m… not too sure myself.” He admitted, finally putting his hands down again. At least Justice listened to him. “It must have been some kind of accident. We will find out how to fix this, alright? Just calm down before the whole Templar order knocks on the door. You two are shooting magic left and right with… whatever it was you were doing.”  
  
“VERY WELL, I WILL LET THIS MORTAL STAY INSIDE THIS VESSEL UNTIL YOU FIND A SOLUTION.”  
  
And then Justice was gone and all that was left was Anders’ body… and Fenris. As soon as he gained control, Fenris was already on him, grabbing him by the tunic and glaring with an intensity that Anders wouldn’t have believed his face was capable of producing.  
  
“You. This is your fault. Fix this! Immediately!”  
  
Anders would be damned if he let himself be intimidated by his own face, so he glared back.  
  
“I just told you! I. Don’t. Know. I don’t even know how this happened! How am I supposed to know how to fix this?! Calm down for five minutes and think!”  
  
Fenris snarled but it sounded rather ineffective with Anders’ voice and finally let go of his body again. Anders’ body looked terrible. Fenris hadn’t even bothered to put on his coat or fix his hair. Then again, Anders supposed that Justice and the elf had immediately started their little power struggle resulting in all the carnage around him.  
  
The clinic had never looked worse. None of the cots were still standing, the place was littered with random ice crystals and small magical fires, there were even a few wisps, floating aimlessly among the chaos and circling a small lake consisting of magical grease and broken potions.  
  
“Andraste’s tits, Fenris! Did you have to try out your new magic like this?! Look at this! My clinic is a mess! That will take a week to clean up!” Right now, Anders wanted nothing more than to go to the docks and drown himself. Maybe he was lucky and Fenris’ body couldn’t swim. Behind him he heard some mumbling.  
  
“What was that?”  
  
“I said I don’t know how to control your magic, mage.”  
  
“Mage? Ha! You’re the mage now! …wait what? Really? You can’t control it? Shit.” But then again, that made sense, right? After all… “To be fair, I have no idea how your tattoos work, either. They keep… pulsing and glowing and... hurting.”  
  
For a moment, the two stared at each other, as if realizing for the first time how grave the situation really was and that if they wanted this to get solved as quickly as possible, they would have to work together, despite their differences.  
  
Fenris sighed. “Fine. I suspect the first course of action is to inform Hawke and finding out what caused this.”  
  
“Yes… but you won’t go outside before putting on some shoes first.” Anders looked down at his body’s naked feet. Fenris crossed his arms.  
  
“I will not strap dead weight to my feet.”  
  
“They’re not your feet, they’re my feet and I’d like to get them back in one piece, thank you!”  
  
“You didn’t put on my armor, either.”  
  
“Yeah well, how am I supposed to know how to wear that weird Tevinter armor of yours?”  
  
Fenris looked away, seemingly not ready to face Anders when he spoke his next words. “…I never wore shoes.”  
  
Now that had Anders gaping at him. Was that elf actually telling him that he had no idea how to put on boots? Fenris, who usually was so adept at everything? This was all such a mess. Anders sighed and rubbed his temple to keep the forming headache from taking him by surprise.  
  
“Alright, fine, just… sit over there. I’ll help you into my boots. And we should put out the fires before they turn from magical fires into real ones that burn down my clinic.”  
  
This was going to become a long and horrible day, Anders just knew it.  
  


* * *

  
  
Hawke laughed.  
  
They had somehow fixed up each other’s appearance and put out the fires in Anders’ clinic. The wisps still wouldn’t leave and Anders still didn’t wear the armor but other than that, they almost looked like always.  
  
After unsuccessfully looking for Hake inside her home, they had tried the Hanged Man and found her enjoying a nice afternoon with Varric and Isabela. Hawke had not been the only one laughing, mind you. Isabela was still snickering and Varric had offered them as much to drink as they wanted, on him.  
  
“Sorry, you know how Justice…” Anders stopped mid-sentence. Wait. He was in Fenris’ body now and Fenris always drank quite a bit, so he could have a pint or two without worrying. He smiled at Varric. “Actually, you know what? I could use something to drink. But not Fenris. Justice hates drinking.”  
  
“As if that is my concern.” Fenris scoffed. There was a bright flash and he held his head suddenly. “…shut… up…!” After a moment, he gritted his teeth and ground out. “Nothing for me after all.” Ah yes, Justice had obviously won this argument. Anders almost wanted to laugh at this because he could exactly imagine how that must have went but if Fenris really had no control over his magic, then this would probably end with him setting Anders on fire out of anger.  
  
“So,” Hawke had finally calmed down and looked at both of them. “you two woke up this morning and were inside the body of the other? But Justice is still inside Anders’ body?”  
  
“What I want to know is if Anders stripped and got to see how far those tattoos go.” Isabela winked at him and for some reason Anders thought about it now. He COULD have. But… that wouldn’t have been right. Not to mention that Fenris would probably kill him once they got their old bodies back. It was bad enough what he had almost done this morning in front of the mirror…  
  
Anders quickly shook his head. “Definitely not.”  
  
“You’re no fun! But… can you at least say something cute? Just this once? Talk how you would talk to the cutest kitten you ever saw in Fenris’ beautiful voice.”  
  
“Isabela.” Fenris warned.  
  
“Well, if I get this over with now, she will be quiet, right?” Anders chuckled nervously and then cleared his throat. “Right, uhm… Who’s a cute little kitty? You are! Yes you are!”  
  
Isabela couldn’t hold her laughter anymore, she banged her fist on the table and even had to wipe away a tiny tear from her eye. Fenris looked like he truly was about to set someone on fire.  
  
“Yesterday, we fought that demon beneath Darktown. My memory is somewhat hazy though. What happened afterwards?” Anders looked at Hawke now, doing his best to ignore Isabela as she unsuccessfully tried to calm down.  
  
“Hmm, well, the fight was rather exhausting but no one got seriously wounded for some reason. Also, the two of you attacked at the same time and killed the demon together. Afterwards you two seemed a little… out of it, so I sent you home.” Hawke crossed her arms and tried to remember if there was anything else worth of note but had to shake her head. “That’s all I got.”  
  
“I guess we will need to find out more about that demon we fought. Didn’t you collect those scrolls that brought you to it? Maybe this will help us. Also, we had Merrill with us. Maybe she has some idea.”  
  
“I refuse to let that blood mage use her foul power to do anything.” Anders sighed. Why did that stupid elf have to be so stubborn? Or well… he was a stubborn human right now.  
  
“I don’t like this any more than you do but I don’t know anything about this and if she does, then we will need her help, whether we like it or not.” That somehow managed to shut Fenris up. Good. “Anyway, if doesn’t get us anywhere, I will try to find out if the circle has any useful information. I have… connections. Or rather, Fenris has connections, since he is in my body right now.”  
  
That could become a bit of a problem actually, he had connections through the mage underground but none of his friends knew of it and having to drag Fenris with him to talk to the necessary people meant that Fenris would find out about it. He was the very last person Anders wanted to know of this.  
  
Anders decided that he didn’t want to think about this now and ordered a big pint of ale for himself. He had missed this so he needed to savor the chance, even if it was just Corf’s horrible swill that everyone kept complaining about.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
“Now, hold out your hand… my hand… you know what I mean.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Anders frowned. “Do you want to learn how to use magic or not?”  
  
“I want to know how to stop it, nothing more.”  
  
Urgh, of course Fenris would be stubborn even now. Then again, he probably took this a lot worse than Anders did. Being trapped in a body that stood for everything he hated with a spirit against his will had to be rather trying. Anders didn’t feel that bad inside Fenris’ body, aside from the pain that kept flaring up, the faint glow he couldn’t stop and how tense everything was.  
  
“Sorry, but knowing how to use it is the key to controlling it. Where was I? Right, hold out your hand and imagine a flame. A small flame, like from a candle. Imagine it as vividly as possible. You’re willing it into existence so you want to be precise with your imagination until it becomes natural and it feels like the flame had been inside of you all along.”  
  
Fenris gave him a rather skeptical look - understandably, those who didn’t have magic never understood - but did as he was told, staring at his own outstretched palm and concentrating. It didn’t take long for a small flame to appear and Anders smiled. Of course that was easy, Anders’ body was that of a trained mage, it was Fenris’ soul that was lacking control over it. But it looked like he was a quick learner, even when it came to magic.  
  
“Good! See? You can do it! So, now you have to tell me how to turn off those tattoos.” Fenris looked at him, confusion clearly showing on his face.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Oh you know, the glowing, the pulsing, the pain that sometimes comes out of nowhere and makes me almost immobile. How do you turn that off?”  
  
“You can’t.” Alright, now that was bad news and Anders stared at Fenris like a fish out of water.  
  
“But… how you do not keep lighting up like a beacon and writhing in pain?”  
  
“I endure and control myself. You’re trying to relax and let go, are you not? Do the opposite.”  
  
Do the opposite. As if that was so easy. Anders felt like he **couldn’t** even relax inside this body. It was physically impossible.  
  
“Alright, I guess I’ll just… tense up until I explode. But I have to say, aside from that, you’re pretty nimble and light-footed. And walking barefoot isn’t that bad, at least not with your feet. Makes me want to go outside and frolic in the woods.”  
  
Fenris actually chuckled now, which seemed like a miracle seeing how irritated he had been all day.  
  
“It’s rather interesting to be tall for once.”  
  
“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it! I want my body back as soon as possible.” It was strange, normally, he would never spend this much time with Fenris if he could help it and what little time they were forced to spend with one another was usually peppered with arguments on mage freedom and slavery and whether or not Justice was a demon. But now that they were in the same boat with the same problem that overshadowed everything else momentarily, they actually talked. It was… nice, in a way.  
  
Not to mention, Anders had never thought much about what those markings had to feel like, brushing off Fenris’ complaints as mere whining. He had been wrong, he had to admit that now and he felt rather guilty about it, too.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Anders hurried through Hightown on quick and silent elven feet. It was already dark and no one was out at this time anymore, leaving the streets eerily quiet and equally dangerous.  
  
They had both been inside his clinic until now, practicing magic and… being tense or whatever it was that damned elf did. Anders still had no idea how Fenris controlled the lyrium, even after he had tried to explain how it worked. But instead of getting a ghost hand, Anders had only gotten a searing pain that had felt like someone had set his hand on fire. So no weird lyrium powers for him. Comparing that to how quickly Fenris learned how to use magic once he had stopped struggling against it, this was a very disappointing development.  
  
At the end of the lesson, Anders had thought it to be a good idea if Fenris stayed inside the clinic while he would go back to the mansion in Hightown. Otherwise it would just seem like something was wrong, and he really didn’t want to let more people know than necessary. Besides, he wanted some time for himself to work through everything that had happened today and maybe, if he was lucky, he would wake up tomorrow, in his own body in his own bed and no one would ever have to talk about this again.  
  
“Hey, boys, look at this! A single knife-ear out on the streets at this hour. Don’t you know how dangerous the streets are?”  
  
For a moment, Anders looked around to find that poor elf walking around alone this late at night, maybe he could help them- then it him. They meant him. He was the “knife-ear”.  
  
Only a moment later and he was surrounded. They were all human men and while some glared at him, some of the others outright leered. This wasn’t good. If Anders had been in his own body, he would have been able to fend them off no problem, but like this he could only hope that fighting with a two-handed sword was easier than it looked.  
  
One of the men whistled. “He looks exotic. Look at those tats. Like some expensive body slave. Let’s sell him after we had our fun with him. Hey, can you even lift such a big sword, little rabbit?”  
  
Anders shuddered. Disgusting. Did people ever say such things to Fenris? He hadn’t heard any of it until now. Then again, Fenris, inside his own body, was more intimidating than some Qunari could even hope to be and Anders was sure that he looked positively worried right now, with good reason.  
  
Still, he needed to at least try to defend himself, so he drew Fenris’ sword. He was a fool, he should have taken his staff with him. At least he knew how to fight with it.  
  
His first swing hit nothing but air. The technique, the momentum, the balance. It was all different. He couldn’t twirl this sword like a staff and he didn’t have his magic. He could hear the men laughing at his attempt before they took out their weapons. A sudden horrifying thought appeared in his head. What if he didn’t manage to drive them off? What if they managed to catch him and do… what they were planning? He couldn’t let it end like this!  
  
Anders’ last resort were the markings. If he managed to do SOMETHING with them, he could perhaps scare them enough to make them leave. Anders took a deep breath and then let himself go, his body lighting up as the lyrium started pulsing through his skin like a second blood stream. And with the power came the pain.  
  
Anders couldn’t keep himself from letting out an agonized scream. The tattoos flashed brightly and released a sudden wave of raw energy, knocking the attackers back. But that wasn’t all. He grew brighter and brighter, his skin feeling like it was on fire and about to burst, clouding his thoughts, immobilizing him. It was as if the lyrium tried to rip his soul from Fenris’ body, rejecting him just like Justice had rejected Fenris.  
  
“Shit! Is that a demon? Run!” The irony of that assumption was lost to Anders as he found himself on all fours, gasping for breath and struggling to keep consciousness. At least he was alone now.  
  
When someone knocked on the door of the clinic in the middle of the night, Fenris was inclined to ignore it but after a few more insistent knocks, he reluctantly opened, finding none other than Anders on the other side. He looked shaken, wide-eyed and pale. As if something horrible had happened not long before.  
  
“I changed my mind. We should stay together.”  
  


* * *

  
  
  
A rather curious development between Fenris and Anders during their time in each other’s bodies was how little space they suddenly seemed to need, not minding closeness at all and fixing buckles and straps that the other hadn’t managed to put on and fasten properly. The reason seemed rather logical though, seeing how it was their own bodies that they saw and cared for, be it that Anders didn’t want his feet to be all sliced up and cold when he got back to his own body or that Fenris couldn’t look at himself walking around with ridiculous bed hair and sleepy eyes.  
  
Currently, Fenris was busy standing in front Anders’ small and dirty mirror, looking at his reflection as if it was the first time he noticed that yes, he truly did look like Anders now. It wouldn’t even have surprised Anders if that was the case.  
  
Fenris touched his cheek , frowning at the no doubt scratchy feeling of the stubble and Anders couldn’t help but watch him curiously.  
  
“It’s strange.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Having hair growing from your face.”  
  
Anders snorted, finally daring to come closer and snickering at the annoyed look Fenris gave him. Truly weird was having to look up at your own face. Having facial hair? Not so much. Then again, Fenris was perhaps the only elf in existence who ever got to experience this. If anything, he should feel honored.  
  
“I don’t know about you but I enjoy having soft cheeks again.” He rubbed his hands over them to prove his point. And really, as tough and angry as Fenris was, his skin was surprisingly soft and nice to touch.  
  
“Stop touching me.” Fenris definitely sounded irritated and despite Anders not wanting to make the elf-turned-human angry, he was just so amused right now, so his next words were already out before he could properly think about them.  
  
“I’m  not touching you. I’m touching myself.” He reached up and let his hand rasp over the stubble. It was getting a bit long. “Now I’m touching you.” Fenris’ glare would probably have been enough to kill the Knight Commander herself so Anders let go again. “I can shave it for you if you prefer. We still have some time until we meet the others.”  
  
Surprisingly enough, Fenris agreed to that. Perhaps the facial hair annoyed him more than anticipated. Not that Anders complained. After all, he had offered to do it and he meant it.  
  
Despite it being his own body that he was so close to, Anders started feeling… something, after having made Fenris sit down and  slathering his chin and cheeks in shaving cream. Fenris kept perfectly still, skeptical but not worried.  And really, perhaps he was just nervous because shaving someone else was different than shaving himself, even if that someone else was his own body. Maker, this was so confusing. He couldn’t wait to be himself again.  
  
“Ready? Just don’t move.”  
  
Fenris didn’t answer but he also didn’t move which was just as good as an answer, Anders supposed. He carefully placed the razor against Fenris’ – his – skin. Anders frowned, using all of his concentration for this task while trying to ignore that his body still felt… something while being so close. Of course, his body was handsome, something he had never been truly able to appreciate before. It was actually hard, seeing himself - truly seeing himself and not just a reflection - for the first time. To be honest, he didn’t look like he had imagined he would, even if he had seen his own reflection so many times. But it wasn’t bad, not at all.  
  
Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t only that, though. In the end, they were still two people, Fenris and him, no matter who inhabited whose body. And Fenris was… handsome, yes. And nice to touch. There really was no way to more intimately get to know a body than to inhabit it. And he had tried not to peek when he had had to take a piss, he really had but… curiosity had been stronger. And even if not, he had held it in his hand and it was now too late to unsee anyway! He was not a pervert, no matter what Isabela would say. Bodily functions couldn’t be ignored, alright?  
  
Anders let the razor glide along Fenris throat and face, a calming, almost therapeutic activity if he weren’t so scared of accidentally cutting Fenris and dying a sudden and very bloody death. Of course it would be an accident but who knew if Fenris would see it as such? He valued his life!  
  
Thinking about it, if it weren’t for the fact that Anders’ body was that of a mage and inhabited by a spirit, would Fenris even have any reason to return to his own? Anders really started to miss his. That incident yesterday had just reinforced that thought.  
  
“I’m sure we will find a solution. As soon as we find out what actually happened to us.”   
  
Anders tried to sound reassuring, perhaps trying to calm himself down more than anyone else, and for some reason, the fact that he spoke with Fenris’ voice instead of his own helped. He scratched away the last bit of stubble and then dabbed the freshly shaved face with a towel, proud of his own work.  
  
“There you go. We’re done.”  
  
Fenris touched his face and seemed pleasantly surprised, lightly rubbing over the now soft skin with his fingers. There was a certain degree of wonder in his eyes that he himself most likely didn’t notice and Anders couldn’t help but think that it was… cute.  
  
After getting ready, they left the clinic and wandered through Darktown just for Fenris to look even more like he was experiencing his very first Satinalia. Why that was, Anders didn’t know, at least until Fenris spoke up.  
  
“The people. They are… smiling at me.”  
  
Fenris sounded completely surprised as if the mere notion of such a thing was completely impossible. As if there was no way whatsoever that people would just smile at him like that. Anders chuckled.  
  
“Well, of course they are! You healed them after all. They are all very grateful. They even leave presents sometimes, even though you heal them completely for free.”  
  
While they walked, Anders looked around as well, trying to make out what sort of stares were directed at him. Many didn’t dare look into his direction in the first place. A few elves threw curious glance at him, some were fearful. Humans either looked at him with fear or disdain. That was when he remembered when he had walked through Hightown on the way to his clinic after waking up in Fenris’ body. How many eyes had actually been on him. All those nobles giving him dirty looks. Of course, they gave everyone who didn’t look as prim and proper as them such looks but it had felt like he hadn’t even been a person, like he hadn’t been… human.  
  
Right.  
  
Anders felt a sudden pang in his chest as he started to understand. He was a mage and hunted but if he managed to hide himself well enough, no one would be the wiser. Fenris? Fenris was an escaped elven slave. That was practically written on his forehead. He couldn’t hide his ears and markings just like that. And whenever he didn’t look like he was about to kill a man, humans would attempt to walk all over him like those creeps in the street the other night. Knife-ear. Little rabbit. Anders really had wanted to punch them. If only he hadn’t been this defenseless.  
  
Leaving Darktown and its rather shady inhabitants behind, they made their way to the Hanged Man where they would be meeting up with Hawke and Merrill. Since they still were inside each other’s bodies, they needed to find out what had caused this and researching that demon was not only the first step but their only lead so far.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“Hello Anders, hello Fenris! …or is it Fenris and Anders now? Hawke told me about what happened but it sounded rather confusing.  I wondered: how do you know who the other is and who you are? What if you felt an itch and you scratched it just to find out that it wasn’t your itch after all?”  
  
When there was no answer from either of them, she sighed.  
  
“I’m sorry, I was babbling again, I know.”  
  
Anders had half a heart to tell her that she wasn’t even that wrong with her musings but stayed quiet in favor of looking at Hawke, who was currently leaning over Varric’s table, studying the old scrolls on it intently. She shook her head as if she had already known what his next question would be.  
  
“This doesn’t tell me anything. The demon we fought was called Hybris and he was a pride demon… but there is nothing about switching people’s bodies. That would sound more like envy than pride anyway, wouldn’t it?”  
  
Merrill joined her, looking at the scrolls as well but obviously not reading them. She seemed deep in thought.  
  
“Well, when we fought Hybris, he didn’t really fight back, did he? It seemed strange. I think… I think he wanted to wait for a moment in which to take over someone’s body, perhaps the body of the one who defeated him? But because Fenris and Anders did it together, the demon couldn’t take either of them. So instead he died and a path was opened between the two of them, slowly exchanging their souls… I think?”  
  
Hawke stared at the little elven mage in silent awe and even Anders was speechless. You could say about Merrill what you wanted and it was probably true but she did have her moments.  
  
“That… actually sounds plausible, doesn’t it?” Hawke asked no one in particular. “But how will we open that… path a second time to get them to go back to their own bodies?”  
  
“Hm… oh I might have an idea!” Merrill quipped. She suddenly seemed way too cheerful for Anders’ liking, so he decided to ask the most important question first.  
  
“Will that “idea” of yours involve blood magic?”  
  
“Of course, Fenris! Or… Anders? How else do you think it will work? I will only need to go home and… prepare for a bit. Don’t worry, you will soon be back to normal!”  
  
Before Anders even had time to protest, the little blood mage was gone, off to prepare her… whatever it was she wanted to do.  
  
“I refuse to let the witch do as she pleases. There is no guarantee that she won’t make it worse.” This was the first time Fenris had spoken ever since they had entered the Hanged Man, probably not wanting to interfere with three mages discussing demons. For once, Anders had to agree with his prickly comrade though, he would prefer doing it his own way, without blood magic.  
  
“Yeah, just… let me write a quick note for one of my contacts and we will see if there isn’t another way. Varric?”  
  
“Already on it, Blondie.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“Alright, remember, you’re me now so you need to act like me. Be nice and don’t say anything unnecessary. Just… ask Trevor if he brought what I asked for. We should be done quickly.”  
  
Fenris first gave him, then the secret tunnel they were about to enter, the most skeptical look he could probably manage in Anders’ body. Anders truly hoped that things would go smoothly. Yesterday he had sent Trevor the message with everything he needed and a meeting spot inside the smuggling tunnels and now they only needed to go to the meeting place, get the stuff and leave. Afterwards, he would have time to study the texts and figure something out.  
  
They started walking through the tunnel, Anders leading the way and Fenris following apprehensively. Perhaps it was best to tell him just a little, just enough to keep him from becoming too distrustful and doing something stupid because of it.  
  
“These tunnels are used by lyrium smugglers, usually. And the mage underground.”  
  
“Yes, you told me about this… underground of yours.”  
  
Anders stopped for moment, turning towards Fenris and frowning up at him, his eyebrows and mouth set in tight lines. This was serious and Fenris needed to understand that.  
  
“Don’t tell anyone about this. I mean it. Not even Hawke.”  
  
“I can imagine that you don’t trust me, with good reason. But you don’t even trust her?”  
  
“It’s not about trust.” Anders turned back around and continued his brisk pace. “Hawke has too many connections. To the nobility, to the guard… to the Templars. I know she wants to help her fellow mages but this isn’t something she can help me with. That’s why I beg you. Don’t tell her.”  
  
“…Let’s get this over with.”  
  
That was perhaps the best he would get out of Fenris when it came to this topic. Anders was willing to take this chance as long as they could change back to normal soon.  
  
In the distance, at a junction where the wooden and metal structures of the sewers turned into crude caves carved into the stone, he could make out Trevor, already impatiently waiting for them. Anders slowed down to walk next to Fenris, instead of leading. He just hoped that Fenris would manage to do this. It wasn’t too hard playing him, right? Someone who already knew him for years should be able to exchange a few short words without coming off too suspicious.  
  
“Anders, there you are. What took so long?”  
  
“I… was… held up.” Fenris answered reluctantly, clearly uncomfortable with the current situation.  
  
Well, maybe Anders had had too much faith in Fenris when it came to this. Fenris had many talents, fighting, speaking with Qunari, having a poker face. Acting was perhaps not one of them. Right now however he could only bite the inside of his cheek and hope for the best. Trevor didn’t seem exactly convinced.  
  
“Held up, huh? After that urgent note you sent me I had almost been certain that you would already be standing here and waiting for me when I reached this spot. And who’s that?” It was just like Trevor to be suspicious of anything and anyone. Something he and Fenris actually had in common. Not that Anders was going to point that out, he stayed silent and let his companion handle this.  
  
“He’s a… friend.”  
  
Anders had to bite his cheek harder as to not snort or burst out laughing. Friend? Since when? Well, after this adventure, he supposed he wouldn’t mind getting to know the prickly elf a little better, actually. It had opened his eyes to a few things he had never thought about before. They would have to see. Friends. The mere thought seemed implausible but… perhaps not impossible.  
  
“Have you brought what I asked for?”  
  
Trevor smiled and something seemed odd suddenly. The smile didn’t reach his eyes.  
  
“Sure I do. I have everything you need. This the apostate I told you about.”  
  
The last sentence was definitely not directed at them. Suddenly, they were surrounded. Templars pouring in from small tunnels and behind rock formations.  
  
“SHIT!” Anders coursed. He grabbed behind himself just to feel the pommel of Fenris’ sword. They had not swapped weapons as to not alert suspicion with Trevor, now he regretted it.  
  
One Templar gave a sign before all of them used their silencing powers at once. Fenris was down before he even could attempt to use magic and Anders? He got hit in the head by something blunt and lost consciousness.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
When Anders woke up again, his head felt like a druffalo had stomped on it a few times. He gave a pained moan and looked around. The Templars were gone. Trevor, that backstabbing little traitor, was gone. But most importantly… Fenris was gone. The Templars had taken him with them.  
  
A wave of cold dread washed over Anders. They were going to execute him. Or make him tranquil.  
  
He didn’t know what would happen to Fenris in Anders’ body if they used the rite on him and he definitely didn’t want to wait and find out. If Fenris became tranquil because of him… he would never be able to forgive himself.  
  
Despite the ache in his head and the nausea he felt while moving, he got up as quickly as he could, running towards the exit to Darktown. He wouldn’t be able to solve this problem on his own, not this time. Even if he had to tell her the truth, he needed Hawke.  
  
The trip through Darktown towards the next exit was nothing but a blur. Anders did his best to stay awake, to keep going no matter what, but it was a race against time and when he reached Lowtown, he lost it, sinking to his knees. The Maker had probably long since abandoned not only the world, but Anders in particular and yet he prayed, begged, that just this once he would not be too late. Karl had already been too much. He needed to push on but couldn’t anymore. Everything around him started spinning and he felt like he was about to vomit when he heard a familiar voice.  
  
“Fen- I mean, Anders, is this you?”  
  
He looked up to see Merrill leaning over him with a worried face.  
  
“I’m ready now and wanted to look for you to tell you but… what happened? You look like-“  
  
“Merrill. I need… Hawke. I made a horrible mistake.”  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Hawke’s healing wasn’t the best but it had been sufficient to patch him up. He had managed to explain everything while they were on their way through Darktown and entering the secret tunnel.  
  
“You know, you could have just waited until I was finished preparing. I told you I know what to do!” Merrill sounded somewhat offended, even if she had helped him by bringing him to the hanged man where Isabela and Varric watched over him until she had returned with Hawke.  
  
“Shut up. I don’t want to hear it.” Anders’ voice trembled. Cold sweat was collecting on his palms, beneath the gauntlets Fenris had finally made him wear.  
  
“We will free him before he receives the brand and get him out without the Templars even knowing what happened.” Hawke sounded confident. It was that confidence that had inspired him before, him and perhaps all of her friends. Anders was thankful that she had agreed to help him, even if it was just for Fenris’ sake. He would understand if she was angry at him. But she showed no signs of anger, only concern and determination.   
  
“Do you think they already put him in the Gallows? I don’t want to have to free from right under Meredith’s nose to be honest.” Varric seemed just as worried as all of them. Anders shook his head briefly.  
  
“No, there’ a… a dungeon beneath the Gallows. I think they would put him there first, at least for a while.”  
  
That was when Hawke stopped and held out an arm to make the rest of the party hold their movement as well. Her voice was low.  
  
“Templars. Around the corner. You know what to do.”  
  
“Oh, I love this part.” Isabela smiled as she and Varric got their flasks ready. The two rogues threw them with perfect accuracy, creating thick smoke that enveloped the Templars. They barely managed to ask what was happening before they collapsed.  
  
“You know, I’m inclined to ask if maybe you could do that to all the Templars in the gallows so we could free the mages meanwhile but… another time.” Anders had to admit though, it was worth some consideration.  
  
They pressed on, following the route that had regular small groups of Templars guarding since that would most likely lead them to the dungeon where they held Fenris. The Templars knew that there would be people wanting to rescue him but they weren’t prepared for just who it was.  
  
The crude carved out stone that made a part of the tunnel look more like a cave than a secret passageway turned into sturdy stone walls. Isabela and Verric stopped throwing their flasks and looked at Merrill. She spoke a few elvhen words, taking out her little knife and making a deep cut. As a healer, watching her do this had always caused a bad feeling in Anders’ gut but now, that he was in Fenris body and had the lyrium markings on his skin, he felt it. The magic.  
  
It crawled along his skin, wet and slick as if he was doused in blood and he could barely keep himself from shuddering. He had felt Fenris’… or rather, his own magic, too, but it had never been too bad. It had been more like a light breeze or a warm caress and he had not really put much further thought into it. But this… suddenly he understood why Fenris didn’t want magic near him. Then again, this was blood magic, it was entirely different from his own and it didn’t explain why Fenris rejected that as well.  
  
A few Templars had noticed them and were charging that them, ready to use silence and holy smite against the mages but Merrill was quicker, hitting them with her blood magic and making them go to their knees. They started whimpering and holding their helmets.  
  
“It’s alright. They’re only dreaming.” Merrill explained as they pressed on. For warriors who were supposed to stop blood mages, Templars were always so incredibly ill-prepared when they actually had to fight them. It was almost as if they didn’t actually do their job. Curious, that.  
  
Anders for his part felt completely useless. He couldn’t use magic and he couldn’t use the markings, he stayed behind his friends and watched them incapacitate Templar after Templar, always taking care of surprising them and only small groups of two or three. They would have to hurry because if the Templars woke up before they could flee, they would be trapped and have no other choice but to kill them and alert the higher ups.  
  
They reached a big door and Anders almost felt like he could breathe easier now. “That’s it, that’s the entrance to the dungeon.”  
  
It was locked, of course, but Varric was already on it. There was a small click that told them they had done it. But the door still wouldn’t budge.  
  
“Looks like it’s bolted from the inside.” Varric frowned at the door. It looked sturdy, even Hawke’s force magic would probably not make it budge for a while and until then, the Templars would have taken notice.  
  
“Bolted from the inside? A shame we don’t have anyone with us who can reach through solid objects.” Isabela’s eyes darted towards Anders who immediately shook his head.  
  
“No, I… I can’t use them. They don’t work for me. I tried but… I’m not Fenris.” Anders looked down at his hands. The gauntlets felt weird but they belonged to these hands, unlike him, who didn’t belong into this body and couldn’t use it properly.  
  
“Don’t you want to save him?” Isabela’s voice sounded strangely serious, something that didn’t happen too often but it made Anders look up and frown at her.  
  
“Of course I want to! Fine! I’ll try. And if it doesn’t work, then just obliterate the damn thing.”  
  
Anders walked up to the door, nervously flexing a hand. He had seen Fenris do this countless of times. The elf had never been very happy when he had had to play ghost man for them and use his power to do something other than crushing people’s hearts, but he had done it nonetheless. Anders just had to make his hand incorporeal, right? No big deal at all.  
  
The markings in his hand lit up and the burn returned. Anders gasped but stubbornly gritted his teeth. He could endure it a bit better now. If only he knew what to do beyond this point. He almost wanted to give up again, just when something pulled on his hand.  
  
It was light, ethereal and timeless. Whispers of things that were and could be, jumbled and overlapping and slipping through matter itself. Anders knew what this was, he had felt it before, different and yet the same. It was the fade. That was how it worked. Fenris perhaps didn’t know because he wasn’t a mage but to Anders, it suddenly made sense. When Fenris used his markings, he stepped into the fade. That agonizing moment in Hightown when he had scared off the thieves, that hadn’t been the lyrium rejecting him, it had been the Fade’s calling, too intense and powerful for him to grasp at the time.  
  
“Anders! Your hand!”  
  
Anders looked at his hand and really, it was see-through now. It was an amazing feeling, painful and strange, like sticking his hand into the fade itself. His heart was hammering in his chest. He had done it! He had really done it! Without wasting any more time, he reached through the door, shuddering at the sensation of a solid object sliding through him. That felt… not good. He didn’t even want to know what rummaging around in someone’s chest and crushing their heart had to be like. Ew.  
  
The next step was to actually move the bolt. Anders pulled his hand back slightly, not from the door but from the fade, it solidified just a little more, enough to move the bold and open the door. Once his hand wasn’t inside the door anymore, he pulled it back completely. It regained its solid form as if nothing had happened and only a dull ache reminded him of what he had just done.  
  
“Good. Now let’s get moving.” Hawke was the first to enter the corridors beyond and they all followed, eager to save Fenris and get out of here.  
  
In the distance, they heard screams. Hawke frowned, looking back at her friends and they all nodded before dashing into the direction of the noise. It didn’t take them long to find the room from which the scream originated and they opened just to be greeted by…  
  
Fenris was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by Templars and shackled by chains with broken ends. Cracks of light littered his skin, indicating that this was not just Fenris, it was Justice. He was holding the sword of a Templar and two of them had already hit the floor, pools of blood forming beneath them.  
  
Hawke, Anders, all of them were momentarily too stunned by the scene in front of them to do anything. A Templar released a flash of white light, a holy smite, but it didn’t even slow Fenris down, knocking weapons out of their hands and driving his sword right through the metal armor into a Templars chest. Anders hadn’t even known that this was possible, much less that he – his body – was capable of such a feat.  
  
The last Templar screamed and charged at Fenris, but was grabbed and lifted up. Fenris… Justice… whoever it was suddenly glowed even brighter and threw the flailing body over his should and at a wall. There was a loud noise and then the Templar slid down onto the floor, not moving any longer.  
  
“Shit, Blondie, I never knew that you were this shredded under your robes. Do you have an eight-pack?” Varric sounded genuinely impressed and Anders could only chuckle nervously.  
  
“No… I don’t. I really don’t.”  
  
The light around Fenris subsided as he stood amidst the carnage with wild eyes, breathing heavily and shaking. Anders rushed towards him, not able to stay away any longer. He suddenly felt swallowed by guilt again. Fenris looked exactly like Anders had felt after his nightly venture to Hightown, perhaps even worse, and he had an idea for what this room was used.  
  
They had been about to make Fenris Tranquil.  
  
“Fenris! Fenris, I’m so sorry, are you alright?”  
  
“Your body is still in one piece, if that’s what you’re asking.”  
  
Anders stopped in his movement, right in front of Fenris. He shook his head quickly.  
  
“That’s not what I meant! Are **you** alright?! I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if they had… I’m so sorry! I never would have thought Trevor would betray me like this! It was all my fault!”  
  
Fenris visibly bristled, seemingly not having expected such an answer. “I’m fine. Let’s just… leave.”  
  
That was a good idea. Looking at the carnage inside this room, there would be an uproar and they had to be gone by then.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“Alright… are you two ready?”  
  
Merrill smiled at them and patiently waited for an answer. Behind her, Hawke, Isabela and Varric watched with equal parts doubt and curiosity. Anders sighed. He briefly glanced at Fenris who was sitting next to him. They were both on Fenris’ bed inside the mansion because Merrill had said they would want to sit on something soft during the process and that they would most likely fall asleep once she reopened the path that their souls had used to change bodies. This seemed like a better choice than his small ratty bed in Darktown.  
  
“I still don’t agree with letting you use blood magic on us. But since it seems like the only choice… get on with it.” Fenris glared at her but that did nothing to dampen her mood.  
  
“Thank you, Fenris! It’s very nice of you to let me use my magic in order to help you.” There was a slight sarcastic undertone in her voice that you would probably miss if you didn’t know her well enough. She took out her knife and looked at the two sitting men thoughtfully.  
  
“It will be easier if you’re as close as possible. Also, you should something at the same time, so I can open the path.”  
  
“Do something at the same time? Like what?” Anders frowned and glanced at Fenris.  
  
“I don’t know. There are no demons here that you could defeat together… maybe you could try to a handstand? Or dance!”  
  
“Definitely not!” Ander had to agree with Fenris there. But what COULD they do? He stared at Fenris and wondered. They could perhaps recite something at the same time but he had no idea what. What else was there? His eyes fell on Fenris’, or rather, his own lips and a sudden thought struck him. Maker. Fenris would kill him for this idea.  
  
“You know… since we have to be as close as possible… why don’t we kiss?”  
  
“WHAT?” Fenris stared as if Anders had just suggested storming the Tevinter chantry and becoming the new Black Divine. Well, this suggestion was perhaps just as unlikely. He could hear Isabela in the background, complimenting him on this brilliant plan.  
  
“I’m just saying we would be really close and it would be easy! Besides, we’re inside each other’s body, so it would be like kissing yourself.”  
  
Fenris still stared, not moving even one muscle.  
  
“Fine, forget it! We’ll just-“  
  
Anders felt himself get grabbed and pulled forward before a pair of warm lips pressed onto his. It felt.. weird. Familiar and yet not. He was kissing himself, kind of, but it wasn’t like he had ever done that before. He could hear various surprised gasps and then felt the by now familiar crawl of blood magic along the lyrium. It was the last thing he remembered before darkness claimed him.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
When Anders woke up that morning he felt… wrong. Something was prodding at the back of his head, urging him to wake up. He knew this feeling like the back of his hand and his eyes flew open. He lifted a hand over his face just to check that, yes, instead of dark skin and lyrium lines, it was just his old, pasty mage hand.  
  
Anders felt so relieved he wanted to shout with joy. He was himself again! Next to him, he could hear a familiar deep voice.  
  
“It seems it’s finally over.”  
  
That was the only thing Fenris managed to say before Anders turned on his side and pulled the elf into a tight hug, arms circling around the smaller body while he laughed happily. He heard muffled sputtering before Fenris started fighting against the embrace.  
  
“Urgh… Mage! What was that for?!”  
  
Anders let go and took a moment just to look at Fenris. He had such a big smile on his face that it started hurting and he put his hands on those soft cheeks that felt even better now that he was himself while touching them.  
  
“Sorry, I just… I’ve never been so glad to see your face instead of mine.”  
  
It hit him then that, now that they were back in their own bodies, being so close was perhaps not appropriate anymore. A bad feeling appeared in the pit of his stomach. It was entirely possible that Fenris did not accept touches any longer and would bury a hand inside Anders’ chest, now that he finally could again.  
  
“Sorry, I was just… so happy and…”  
  
Fenris made a “tch” noise before putting a hand on the back of Anders’ head and pulling him into a kiss.  
  
This time, Anders could be certain that he was kissing Fenris, not himself. Fenris’ lips were soft and he was surprisingly eager, pulling on his bottom lip and barely waiting before including tongue. Anders felt himself become breathless and broke the kiss, finding an unspoken question inside those big, green eyes. They were beautiful. He was glad that he could look at them again, without a mirror. But… if Fenris had kissed him now, willingly, and he had liked it, then this meant…  
  
“We will have to talk about this. All of this.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Fenris kissed him again. Well, perhaps talking still had time until they were finished.

**Author's Note:**

> Anders is a punk bitch. Also, Merrill was the secret hero of the fanfiction, please acknowledge her awesomeness.
> 
> I wrote this whole story from Anders' pov so that, if people liked this and are interested enough, I could be convinced to write another version of this story from Fenris' pov. And maybe a little epilogue on how things developed afterwards. They were definitely forced to be nice to Merrill for a while after this, seeing as she had basically saved their asses.
> 
> Please review and tell me if you would like Fenris' side of the story! I wrote on this for three days and poured all of my blood, sweat and tears into it.


End file.
